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Writing Vampire Fanfic

Drix D'Zanth

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Well if ANYONE knows me enough, they know I LOVE vampires. Here's a short story I wrote a while ago, probably nothing I would continue. It's about vampirism from a very personal beginning. Anyone who's signed up for my RPG might want to read this. I'll post a new story sometime soon. I'm working on another.
[B] Obsidian Awakenings, Crimson Dreams [/B]

That's the first thing I remember.
A lot of blood.
Don't laugh. Do you think I don't know how cliché that sounds? Yeah, yeah - vampire, blood, the whole dramatic nine yards. Well, **** you. This is my story, and I'm telling it the way I remember it. And the first thing I remember is blood - more than I've ever seen before. At least, I think it's more than I've seen before.

I woke up, I guess. I was covered in blood. Not mine, I don't think, since I didn't have any cuts or anything. And I didn't see any bodies, either - so I'm not sure where it came from. All I know is that it was everywhere. In my hair, in my eyes, under my fingernails... my clothes were soaked with it. Splashed all over the walls and pooling on the uneven basement floor. It was starting to congeal, I think, but I don't know. I'm no doctor.

Strange thing was, I didn't seem to mind so much. In fact... I couldn't help thinking it smelled terrific. I suppose I should feel bad about that, but I didn't. I do feel bad about not feeling bad, so maybe that counts. To be honest, I don't really care. I've got enough problems without questing into my own psyche to explore how I feel about not minding being soaked in blood. I never put much stock in that pyschobabble crap anyway.

So, there I am... covered. Dripping. I must have looked like a homicidal maniac home from a hard day's work. But I had bigger problems to deal with, so I guess I didn't really think too much about it.

What bigger problems? Good question. I was getting to that.

I was in a strange place. At least, I think it was a strange place. I don't remember ever seeing it before. Not too big a help, since I don't really remember anything. I've figured out my name is Lucas. Well, either that or I stole a library card from someone named Lucas. It's as good a name as any other, I guess, and it's better than saying 'I don't know' when someone asks my name. Not that anyone has yet.

It took me a few minutes to get my bearings. It was really strange. I felt dizzy and wildly energized all at once. I don't know if this was normal, though it didn't seem like it. I had the feeling something had happened... something major. I couldn't remember it, though. That was a little unsettling, but I figured there was someone upstairs who could probably tell me about it. So, I went upstairs. It took a little elbow grease to unstick the door, but I got it. Probably not the smartest move I made that night, but up I went into the hallway.

The first door I came to didn't have any light showing under it, so I guessed either no one was home or they were asleep. It was pretty dark outside, so I figured it must be late. The second door had lights, though... so I knocked. It took that lady forever to answer the door, but when she did... she screamed bloody murder. I tried to tell her I needed help, that something had happened... but she just slammed the door in my face and kept on screaming as she retreated back into her apartment. I just thought she must have a weak stomach or something. I knew she was probably calling the cops, but I didn't care. I figured at least they'd be able to help me figure out what was going on.

I've never been very patient. Never really the type to stand around and wait for the cavalry to show up. So I knocked on the next door, because their lights were on, too. This lady answered the door pretty quick, but she passed out as soon as she saw me. I started to wonder if I was the only guy in the world who didn't mind a little blood. I waited for a husband or boyfriend or something to come and get her off the floor - I even called into the apartment. She must have lived alone though, because no one came. Call me a sucker for a pretty girl, but I couldn't just leave her laid out on the floor like that. It didn't seem right. So, I picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. Good thing I shut the front door behind me, I guess. Gotta love those automatic locks.

She was absolutely beautiful. Not glamorous or flashy or fake looking, just really naturally pretty. Clean looking. Wholesome. Just my type, I think. According to the little gold necklace she wore, her name was Wendy. She smelled great, too. I didn't know exactly what it was... I thought maybe it was soap or perfume or something. Now that I do know what it was - trust me when I say you don't want to hear about it.

I felt bad about getting fresh blood stains on her white sheets, but I didn't really want to leave yet, either. She was passed out cold, and I wanted to be there when she woke up. I figured I should clean up a bit before came around. If the sight of all the blood was what spooked her in the first place, better if I got some of it off. I was looking for the bathroom, but I came across the kitchen first. It had a sink, and that was good enough. I turned it on just as I heard the sirens getting closer, and washed my face quickly. I put my gloves down the garbage disposal - I didn't want to throw bloody gloves in Wendy's trash can. When I got a look at my hands, I knew something must have happened. They were gray-blue and bruised all over. It seemed weird at the time, because they didn't hurt. But those sirens were getting closer, and Wendy hadn't woken up yet, and I was in a hurry. I guess I should have given it more thought, but I didn't. Sue me.

I hurried back in to Wendy's room to wake her up, because I wanted to talk to her for a minute before the cops got there. Don't ask me what about, because I don't know. I just wanted to talk to her, ask if I could call sometime or something. She really was a looker.

I shook her and she came around, and then she started screaming just like the other woman had. I tried to tell her that something must have happened, I showed her my hands and told her I was hurt. She screamed louder still. I didn't get it. I told her the blood wasn't mine, that I didn't know whose it was. I asked her to calm down. She just kept screaming.

I didn't really mean to hurt her. Really I didn't. I just got frustrated when she wouldn't quiet down. I thought she was hysterical, so I slapped her. Actually, I backhanded her. I didn't think I'd hit her that hard, but I must have... I knocked her unconscious. From the way her face looked, I must have broken her jaw too. She wasn't quite so pretty anymore.

Right about then is when I heard the cops breaking the door down. Maybe they had knocked first, I don't know. I couldn't hear over Wendy's raving. Cops. Me covered in blood. Wendy sprawled on the floor with a broken face. I knew how bad this looked. I knew they'd probably shoot first and ask questions later. I hurried to lock the bedroom door. I couldn't think of anything else to do. I didn't know who I was, or where I was, or what I was doing there. It suddenly seemed pretty damned unlikely they were going to believe that I couldn't remember where the blood came from. What can I say? I panicked.

I knew that flimsy little pressboard door wasn't going to hold. I knew they'd be through it in a minute. I looked around - no other doors, no windows except for a tiny one up by the ceiling. Wendy lived mostly below ground, it seems. I say 'lived' because I didn't just hurt Wendy - I killed her. I really didn't mean to. I just wanted her to stop screaming. It worked, I suppose... pretty brutal way to shut some one up, though. I really do feel bad about it. She probably didn't deserve that.

But, I'm getting away from the story again, aren't I?

So, I'm panicking... the cops are banging on the door... Wendy's down for the count... and somehow I just knew that was it. You know, THE it - that moment when your whole life changes, when it becomes 'do or die.' Except, I didn't know what to do... and I wasn't right anyway. That do or die moment had come and gone, and I had died. Of course, I didn't know that yet. I suppose I could have figured it out if I stopped and thought for a second. But, hey - the cops were busting through the door, I had broken into a woman's apartment and mauled her - it didn't really strike me as the time to pause and reflect on my own physical state.

Finally, I just gave up. They had me. I was cornered and outgunned. I just decided to wait for them to bust in and take me down. I figured it would be better if I didn't resist... maybe they wouldn't be as rough on me. I sat down on Wendy's bed and waited. It got quiet, and I figured that must be because they had gone and gotten the biggest guy there to come bust down the door. One minute passed, two minutes, five minutes... I was watching Wendy's digital alarm clock change. Every minute seemed to take an eon to pass. Funny how time slows down when you're dreading something.

But they never came. The cops never busted through the door. I waited fifteen whole minutes there on the bed, and after it got quiet I had never heard another sound. I remember being so confused. Surely they hadn't just given up, or gone away. The people on the next block must have heard Wendy screaming - I couldn't believe the cops at the door hadn't. But they had stopped banging on the door, stopped shouting demands and orders. Something was terribly amiss. I knew it, too - down in my bones I knew it. I should have acted like it, too. But I didn't. I got up and opened the door.

More blood.

There they were, strewn about the room in various piles and pieces - six police officers. Wendy's dusty rose and cornflower blue hallway now looked much like the basement. Did I say I was panicked before? Well, I really panicked then. I hadn't heard a thing. Six guys yelling at me to come out one minute, and dead silence the next. I admit I was pretty spooked. Then I got scared - because I knew they would blame this on me, too.

I thought about trying to wake Wendy up, but I figured she'd be pretty pissed at me. I had broken her jaw, after all. She probably wasn't going to want to go out with me after that. In some twisted attempt to be gallant, I decided to call her an ambulance. I could lie about who I was, right? And I could be gone before they ambulance got there, so they couldn't catch me and pin all those murders on me.

I picked up the phone, I dialed 911. I started talking to the dispatcher, telling her my neighbor looked hurt. I said she was on the floor, and I couldn't wake her up. I said it looked like something might be wrong with her face. That's when I heard snickering.

It may not make a whole lot of sense, but it made me furious. Here I was in the middle of a crisis, trying to cover my *** and do the right thing at the same time... and someone was laughing at me. Why didn't I wonder who it was? Good question - and right about then, I did. It dawned on me that whoever made confetti of those cops was still here. I got scared. Really scared.

I don't think I even hung up the phone. I think I just dropped it.

I admit I wasn't thinking too clearly then. Who would be? I ran. I just ran. I was trying to get away... get out of the apartment. Away from a banged up girl named Wendy, away from six shredded cops, away from the maniac that was laughing less than twenty minutes after murdering six people.

I didn't make it, though. I ran through the hall, into the living room. I should say now that it was empty - because it looked that way to me. But when I got to the door, I got yanked back by the shoulder so hard that it dropped me flat on the ground. And it wasn't empty at all - there were three of the ugliest monsters I had ever seen in my life standing there. It was hard to tell with the third one, but two of them were smiling at me. One of them was still snickering a little.

I flipped out. I must have. I could describe these things all day long, and you still wouldn't understand how ugly they were. They had two arms, two legs, and a head like people do... and that's about where the similarity ended. Well, they had eyes... and mouths, though it'd be more accurate to call them 'maws'. But their skin was all green-grey, and they had weird patches of hair growing in all the wrong places, and moles and growths... well, all kinds of deformations. It really was sick. They looked like something right out of a monster movie, or a sci-fi flick about mutations caused by radiation. And one of them had me.

As soon as I had any of my wits about me, I tried to get away. I struggled and pulled and flailed and convulsed... and never once did that thing lose it's grip on me. For the second time in one night, I thought, 'This is it.' Here I was in the clutches of this thing who had killed a bunch of cops without making a sound and laughed when I called an ambulance. I remember contemplating just how screwed I really was.

And then the one that had me in an iron grip spoke. He just opened his mouth and spoke, like nothing was nothing and we were all just regular guys.

"Haven't you tired of these festivities yet, child? Admittedly some of it has been great fun, but the hours do grow small. We shall have to draw your little escapade to a close now. More serious matters require our attention."

I don't know what I was more stunned by - the fact that he spoke or what he said. He talked like he knew me, like we were old pals or something. Yeah, maybe I couldn't remember anything... but I was pretty certain that I'd remember knowing these guys. They're not the kind of faces you forget. Ever.

I guess I just gawked at him. I don't know how much time passed. To me it seemed like time just stopped, like I was frozen in this horrible moment. I remember wishing I could wake up now - that this awful dream would just be over. That may sound silly... but what would you think was going on? Blood and gore and monsters and amnesia? It smacked of a nightmare. It was a nightmare, too. It still is - just not the kind you can wake up from. Ever.

Finally one of the other ones spoke. I don't remember exactly what he said. I was sort of in shock, I guess. I know he was talking to the one that was holding me, and I know he called him Ambrose. I know he said something about me and how I was behaving. I was still looking at Ambrose, though. Still in shock. Still thinking that maybe if I pinched myself, I could wake up. Still trying to get my head together. Trying, and failing.

Ambrose was talking to me again, but I didn't catch the first part. I caught on somewhere in the middle.

"... so we have to go back down now. You've frightened these people quite enough for one evening, and frankly I'd rather not clean up any more of your messes."

I found my tongue then and there, for better or for worse.

"MY messes? Clean up MY MESSES?? What the hell is wrong with you? Well, besides the obvious. And WHAT the hell are you, anyway???"

I expected an outlandish explanation. I expected no answer at all. I expected a good chastising for asking the wrong questions. I didn't expect a round of boisterous laughter - but that's what I got. That pissed me off, too. I've never appreciated being laughed at. I still don't, though I've lightened up a bit since then.

But I'm getting away from the story again. Sorry.

They carried me out of the room that way: laughing. Laughing like this was some big joke, some hilarious prank that I just hadn't caught on to yet. Like they didn't have a care in the world.

Six dead cops.
Faces like the Creature From the Black Lagoon.
Humps on their backs.
And not a care in the world.

It's safe to say I had totally lost my perspective now.

Ambrose was motoring me down the hall with ease, even though I wasn't cooperating in the least. I saw that the door I had knocked on first was open now, and from the splintered wood around the lock I could tell it had been forced open. I imagined that she was dead, too. Why not? Everyone else was. I was probably next. I didn't really care anymore.

Don't get me wrong - I didn't want to die. I like living as much as the next guy. But I didn't want to play this game anymore either, and if dying was the only way out then it was the only way out. I would have liked to have thought there were other ways, but I tend to be a little on the realistic side. Three freaks. Six armed, trained cops now in many, many pieces. With all my might I couldn't shake Ambrose's grip even a smidgen. If they wanted me dead, I was dead - and that was that. I tried to make a deal with God right there in that hallway. I begged his forgiveness for anything I might have done in that past I couldn't remember, and promised I'd spend eternity in heaven shining harps or something if he could just let these weirdoes not torture me. It was really pathetic. But, I was desperate... and desperate men do foolish things.

We went back down into the basement, and I realized Ambrose was talking again. From the tutorial tone he was using, I reckoned he was speaking to me. He was.

"...hadn't really thought you'd manage the door, since we sealed it fairly well. I was going to stop you, but Ezra thought it would be great fun to watch what you did. It was quite a show, young master Lucas. I must say Ezra was right - great fun indeed. We had intended for you to find the passage down through the floor. I suppose you're not accustomed to the concept of down yet, but that will change. You've quite a few lessons ahead of you, but I think I shall make that the first. Always down if you can, never up unless you must: a vital adage now. Don't worry, young master Lucas - you shall learn."

I had more questions than you can possibly imagine, and I couldn't find the gumption to spit out a single one. Maybe I was still in shock. Maybe I had failed in the pursuit of suspension of disbelief. Maybe I was just terrified. Maybe I was busy losing my mind. Probably a healthy combination of all them, really.

The basement still smelled great, but we didn't stay long. They opened what looked like a utility cover on the outside, but it wasn't - it was a narrow tunnel. The walking nightmare called Ezra slipped through first, then the other one... then Ambrose shoved me through it. It turned out to be a short chute that dumped me in a drainage pipe. Ambrose was last down, and I heard him pull the door shut after us. When I finally managed to get to my feet, he was already standing there grinning this snaggletoothed grin at me.

"Can't have our little trap doors discovered, can we young master Lucas?"

I didn't get time to answer that - not that I actually had an answer - because Ezra and Ambrose looped arms with me and set us off walking through this drain pipe. At the time I thought it was strange because we were traveling farther into the tunnel, and not out towards the light. But, hell... what was I going to say? Nothing. And that's exactly what came out of my mouth. Nothing.

I think I was just kind of drifting along for a while there. Ezra and Ambrose were taking tuns yammering at me, but most of it was lost. I gotta be honest... I was feeling sorry for myself. Here I was in a friggin' sewer, with a couple of foul smelling uglies for escorts, I couldn't remember who I was or where I came from or how I got into that basement... and these guys are talking like we're just shootin' the breeze over beers or something. I did hear some of it, though. Let me tell you - if anyone else had said the things they said, I would have called them a fruitcake.

They were going on about Vampires and Nosferatu and blood and daylight and a place to sleep. I never saw movie vampires that looked like these freaks, and I said so. They told me that's because none of their clan ever had an acting career. What could I say? It made perfect sense - and that worried me.

Then it occurred to me that they said clan, so I asked if they meant the KKK or something. I said that if they did... I totally understood about the sheets now. This earned more laughter, which kinda sickened me since I realized I had made a joke. Ambrose asked if I would be wanting my own sheet. I told him I didn't really dislike black people. He burst into laughter all over again. Sometimes I can be really thick skulled.

Finally we got where we were going. I couldn't have told you how, and I sure couldn't have found my way out again. We must have taken thirty turns, eight secret passages and two more slides before we got to their place. I realized just how lost I was about the same time Ezra announced we were there.

Their 'haven,' as they called it, was pretty amazing. Well, for a subterranean dump anyway. A lot of nice stuff there, most of it old. Tons of books and papers all over the place, and a complete living room set. Heaven knows how they managed to get it all down there. I sure didn't ask. They told me to make myself at home, and Ambrose must have seen me cringe because he said told me I might as well just do it, since this WAS my new home. I really didn't want to hear that, I guess, because for a minute I forgot what I had seen them do to the police and just went ballistic.

I screamed about not knowing where the hell my home was, but how I was sure that it wasn't here with these freaks of nature. I screamed about them all being disgusting monsters and murderers. I screamed about how I'd just like to go home now, if I could just figure out where that was. I probably waved my arms around a lot and gestured wildly, too. I'm not sure - that parts a little fuzzy. What isn't fuzzy is the look on Ambrose's face when I finally ran out of steam. In fact, that I remember really clearly. He looked patient, as if he had been waiting for me to do that. He looked like he had anticipated my breakdown, and even like he might have understood. I remember not liking that very much, either.

My outburst didn't even get so much a batted eyelash from any of them, either. They all just sat there looking at me, and I remember thinking that there was something important in their silence. I know - it doesn't make a lot of sense. Still, that's what I thought at the time and it was enough to make me stop and try and figure out what that important thing was. It seemed like a full five minutes passed while I looked from face to face, trying to hear what wasn't being said. They weren't grinning anymore, they weren't sneering. They looked like they were waiting, too.

"Why do you think you're different from us?"

Ambrose didn't say it very loud, but it hit me like a Mack truck. It seemed pretty obvious to me, y'know? At least, the major points did. I looked at him - probably like he was from another planet - but I didn't get time to say anything.

"Look at your hands, young master Lucas."

I don't know why I did as he said. I wanted to call him an idiot, to begin listing off the obvious differences between me and them. But I did what he told me to. I looked at my hands.

When I looked at them in the dim light of Wendy's kitchen, they had looked bruised - and even though the light down here didn't seem much better, I could see them now. They weren't bruised. They were changing color, becoming the blue-green gnarled little claws you see now. They were growing these warts and patches of hair - I think that one right there was already fully formed.

You can probably imagine how horrified I was, huh? I mean, they had done something to me - they had made me look as hideous as they did. I know I can't remember anything before that night, but I was pretty sure I didn't look like that way before. I feel like that's the sort of thing you remember.

I started to shake. I really did. I know... big tough guy, shivering like a little girl. Yeah, you would have too buddy. Hey - hey - okay... maybe you wouldn't have... cut me a break, okay? I'm still new at this. Anyway, I couldn't even say anything. I was just shocked. Suddenly this whole, awful life started to flash before my eyes. I would live down here in the sewer with all the other monstrosities, probably stealing babies and naming rats like they were household pets. No more bars on Saturday nights, no more picking up half drunk young girls who are impressed by a leather jacket and a roll of bills.

Then I realized they had all gotten quiet again - even stayed quiet while I mentally stepped outside for a few minutes. I kind of came back to the 'here and now' with a start, and just started shaking my head and babbling about how it couldn't be true. They seemed to expect that, too, and I vaguely remember wondering just how many people they'd done this to before me. I wondered if all those people had done the same things I had.

Ambrose motioned to one of the other ones, and it brought me a chair. I sat down, because I wasn't sure I could stand up much longer. I wasn't feeling faint or anything - in fact, I felt great. There was the occasional pain here and there, but even those died down. I felt like I could run for miles, chop down a tree with my bare hands. I did feel like I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, though... and that seemed like a good enough reason to park my *** in the offered seat. After all... they already had me, right?

Ambrose stood up and shifted his dilapidated cloak-thing. It was kind of ironic - he stood there like Julius Caesar must have stood when he addressed Rome, but Ambrose was a real mess with his green skin and tattered robe. He didn't seem to notice, though, because he stood up pretty straight and lifted his pointy chin just like he was nobility.

"There is no mistake; this is neither a hallucination nor a dream. You are one of us now. You are Kindred, and more importantly you are Nosferatu. Your change is not complete, but it will be soon. When it has run its course you will resemble us, and you will look that way forever - for you are a vampire now."

He started to say something else, but I guess I laughed so loud that he decided to stop. When I calmed down a bit, he chimed in again.

"You find that amusing, young master Lucas? Good - I wager you will need that sense of humor to see you through the next few weeks. Or perhaps you find the notion preposterous? If you do, I would love to hear your theories concerning the alternate explanation for our appearance and the things you have witnessed. After all, we enjoy a good laugh as much you appear to."

That sobered me up a little. I rambled off something about government experiments, something about aliens, something about genetic mutations and probably something about fluoride in the water, too. They got a kick out of my raving, I guess, because there was a lot of snickering. I think Ezra said something about the fluoride bit being a new one.

"Yes, I suppose all of those ideas seem as plausible to you as my explanation. Since I would obviously know a bit more about what's going on here, however, what say we listen to the expert for a moment? I assure you I have better things to do than construct such an elaborate scheme to pull the wool over your eyes. I could offer you proof of what I say, but I believe you would find that even more gruesome than what you have been through already this evening."

I just nodded. I don't know why. He had a point about him knowing better than me... and while I didn't have a lot of faith in the existence of vampires, I didn't have much in the existence of little green men in the sewers, either. But there they were... and there I was. So I shut up and listen.

He gave me the run down about sunlight and fire and wooden stakes... you know, all the basics. Then they said I would need to drink blood to survive. Just the word 'blood' made me feel weird, and suddenly what they were saying made a lot more sense. While it wasn't as strong, the idea of drinking blood made me feel just like I had in that basement; just like I had when I smelled Wendy. Ambrose must have seen the light of realization on my eyes, because he just nodded like he'd been waiting for it all along.

"Yes, now you begin to hear the truth in my words. I am surprised you have not yet noticed that you have ceased breathing, that your heart has ceased beating. Your body temperature should be far below the human average now also. When the sun rises, you will be dragged into a deep sleep and when it sets again you shall wake again. It will be this way for eternity, or until you get yourself killed. You will learn to be stronger than you've ever imagined, and you will learn to hide yourself from those you would not have see you. You will learn to call and command the beasts of the earth. You will also learn to pay a bit more attention, young master Lucas - both to your own condition and to the world around you."

I would have to say that's when it hit me. I was a vampire. I was sure I'd had some fantasies about being a vampire before, but not like this. I had pictured the dark and dashing gentleman with piercing eyes and a good chin, cursed to be a handsome devil who stole the hearts and cherries of young European girls forever. I had NOT fantasized about being some mangled little bridge troll who stunk like a toilet and slunk around that ever-popular-with-the-ladies sanitation system. And I was going to be like this forever... ugly forever. As much as that sucked, I figured I could live with that... I mean, not every guy can be Richard Gere, right? But combine that with the other stuff - drinking blood, killing cops and little old ladies... Man, I just couldn't cope. There wasn't anything I could do either. I asked if I could undo what they had done to me, if I could just go be a person again if I kept my mouth shut. I'd say their round of laughter was all the answer anybody really needed, though.

That was a week ago.

So, now... here I sit, telling you my little sob story. What? Oh, no... I'm taking it a lot better now. I guess it's not as bad as it could be... and even if it is, what the hell could I do about it? About as much as you did, I reckon. I still don't know where I lived before I lived here, or if I had a family or anything. They tell me that will come back in time, but I don't know if I want it to. I'd hate to think I've got a wife and kids or something; someone who might have needed me. I tell ya, I hate wondering... but I'd hate it even more if I knew something like that. I feel like Ambrose knows who I was before, but he never says anything about it... even when I break down and ask.

You know, the guys call me Lucky. They say they've never seen anyone turn this particular shade of aqua before. I think it's their private little joke, though. Kinda like calling a guy who only has his right arm 'Lefty'. So, here I am... hiding out in this storm drain watching the people go by up there... I'll never have anything that even resembles a normal existence - even for vampires. I look like a nightmare on legs, I smell bad, and I'm supposed to be a member of one of the most devious and dangerous clans around... except... how the hell am I supposed to do that? I don't know. You don't think they'll off me if I don't learn fast enough, do you?

What's that?

That's really cool of you... but I don't think you should do that. I mean, I wouldn't want you to-


Well, yes... it would be nice to know that someone had my back if the **** went down...
Man, I tell you... you Brujah are alright in my book...
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